


Arranged Marriage

by Leni



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: An old deal has come to Rumpelstiltskin's doorstep. Now there is a woman in the Dark Castle, and she insists on marrying him.'medal'- Rumbelle





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ogres attack Avonlea. As a last resource, the king decides to ask for the Dark One’s help and sends him a letter offering their most precious treasure in exchange for his power: their gold.
> 
> Rumpelstiltskin, being the kind of man who cannot let a chance to see a nobleman beg go unremarked, presents himself at the Avonlea castle and proceeds to merrily mock them for daring to offer gold to the spinner of gold. But since he is a merciful soul… deep down… (giggly sniggers), he has decided to give them a chance. Give him a good reason for the Dark One to exert himself in their favor, and - cue deep bow - he will be glad to help them.
> 
> Any reason at all.
> 
> Any? At all?
> 
> Anyone?
> 
> Enter the lady of the land....

Twenty-one years ago…

 

“The history books claim you drove the ogres away from the Marchlands.”

Rumpelstiltskin scoffs, never liking the reminder of those days. “The stories also claim I eat children for dinner.” A glance down to the lady’s growing belly. “Are you offering?”

Every man in the room steps forward - starting with the lady’s husband - but she raises a hand to stop them.

“Colette,” the king mutters, nerves on an edge.

She squares her shoulders and pretends a dozen grown men didn’t just almost commit suicide. “I said  _history books,_ sir. Not nursery tales to scare the little ones into good behavior.”

Rumpelstiltskin smirks, amused at the polite address. It earns her an honest answer. “Say I did.” A careless shrug. “That was a long time ago, and there was someone I dearly wanted to see whole and uneaten. You, I don’t care about.”

His cold attitude doesn’t faze the queen. Ogres a few miles away terrify her, but a sorcerer too full of himself doesn’t quite compare. “This someone… They were important to you?”

A growl. “Very.”

For all eighty-five years that his Baelfire walked on this earth, he was the most important person in Rumpelstiltskin’s world.

The queen’s thoughts run in parallel. “The first ogre wars happened centuries ago…”

“I know, dearie. I was there.”

“What I mean is, the person you cared about must have passed away. Yet you still remember them.” His answer is a glare. The queen relaxes as if his anger were a welcome clue. “Only family makes us miss them too much for words.”

“Have you a point, milady?”

“Families can be made in the blink of an eye…” She meets his eyes, and doesn’t shrink from the fury in them as Rumpelstiltskin guesses her meaning. “Or the exchange of vows.” 

“You jest.”

“To save their loved ones, many a lady would be glad to join their life to yours.”

Rumpelstiltskin looks around the room, expecting to see horror at the suggestion. But though the men’s faces are pale, no one protests. Indeed, the king steps forward, coming to stand beside his wife, taking her elbow in a tender grasp - and an unspoken gesture of support. “You did ask for a reason, Dark One. We have given you one.”

Rumpelstiltskin snorts. “That’s not a reason. That’s lunacy!”

“Marriage can drive people mad,” Colette says, straight-faced.

That stops his next rant. Against all odds, he chuckles. “That’s not a defense for marital bliss, milady. I know a little of the burden of matrimony, and have no wish to enter the blessed state with a woman who might as well have wedded my power rather than my person.”

The queen lifts an eyebrow. “A man who admits he’s more than his power. How rare.”

“A man who won’t have sniffling and crying wretches under his roof, sobbing and begging in the best case scenario, cursing the air I breathe in the worst.” He shakes his head. “A servant, maybe. Servants can become part of the background, unheard and unseen. But never a wife!”

“But, if you save us-”

“Gratefulness doesn’t last a lifetime, dearie. Even fondness and respect take a beating unless carefully tended - and I’m not known for my care of others.”

“And who cares for you, Dark One?”

His mouth snaps shut.

“There are hundreds of marriageable girls in the kingdom. There has to be one you can get along with.” The queen nudges her husband, but when he stares blankly, she continues smoothly, “Get rid of the ogres, Dark One, and we promise to find her.”

Rumpelstiltskin tuts nastily. “And you’ll push and push her, prod at her will and nag and nag until she says yes. What a happy bride she’ll make!” His lips twist bitterly. “I don’t think so.”

“But—”

“ _No.”  
_

The king rubs his chin, takes deep breaths. “What will we do?” he mutters, feeling the defeat already break down the doors and lay waste to his home. “What will we do now?”

The queen takes her husband’s hand. Squeezes gently to remind him they’re still together. “My idea cannot be so outrageous if you have yet to walk away in affront. You rail at the choice of ladies - or, actually, at the idea that you wouldn’t be their first choice - but I’ve yet to hear you speak against the idea of marriage itself.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes flit to the entwined hands of the queen and king. “It has its good moments. With the right person.” His pointing finger raises into the air, then wags at the pair. “Not with coercion.”

“Then what do you want, Dark One?” the king snaps, then continues before his wife can contain him. “A taste of love?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes brighten. This lot are ogre fodder walking, but he can spare a few more minutes to entertain himself. “Love!” he says theatrically, carrying the syllable over several beats. “What a wonderful idea!”

The queen shakes her head quickly. “What we meant-”

“Is to give me a reason to help you. A wife with a true fondness of me… Now that would be nice!”

“I’m sure one of the women in Avonlea-”

“Might be loyal enough to give it a try, but why kid ourselves?” He waves his hands in the air. Shares a look of mock pain with the royal pair. “The lot of them have been raised with a horror of me. Those nursery tales you mentioned, Your Majesty. Very damaging to my reputation. I don’t think I could take any of them home, knowing what dark thoughts cross their heads about their new husband.”

The queen narrows her eyes. “So you’ll leave us to our fate.”

“That was my original decision.”

“And now?”

“I might yet to change my mind. With the proper nudging.”

“What do you want?” the king snarls, tired of evasions.

Rumpelstiltskin grins, happy to answer this once. Then points a finger at the queen… lowers it to her midsection. “I want her.”

Gasps around the room. Snarls. The queen’s hand comes to cover her belly, while a dozen swords slide out of their sheaths.

“You can’t know…” the queen whispers, several shades paler but still meeting his gaze.

Rumpelstiltskin titters. “But I do. It’s a girl, Your Majesty. Hopefully just as beautiful as her mama, and let’s pray not that stubborn and outspoken. I do like some peace in my own home.”

“Over my dead body,” the king hisses, using his grasp on his wife to pull her behind him.

“I take that’s a no?” Golden eyes dance with mischief, always happy to watch people slip the noose around their own necks and jump off into the air. In their minds, it was good and fair for royalty to offer a random woman, but never their own flesh and blood. He brings a hand to his heart, faking desolation at their response. “What a pity!”

The king looks at him with disgust. “Begone, demon.”

Rumpelstiltskin smirks and raises a hand to start the spell that will take him back to the Dark Castle.

The queen’s voice stops him. “I can promise you a clean slate.”

The magic freezes, and Rumpelstiltskin gives her a look of disbelief.

So does her husband. “Colette, you can’t!”

“My child, my choice. That’s our custom,” she tells him, walking around him but never actually leaving the reach of his arms. She looks at the Dark One. “I can promise my daughter to the man who would control such power as to defeat the ogres, and also have enough heart to want someone willing at his side.”

This time Rumpelstiltskin pales. “You  _are_  insane.”

The queen smiles. “A clean slate, Rumpelstiltskin. She won’t hear about the Dark One, except that he fought off the ogres and saved us all. No scary tales, no nurses teaching her to hide away from you. It will be up to you how you introduce yourself to her, and whether you give her reason to cry off.” The queen’s hard gaze tells without words that, should her daughter decide not to go through with the arrangement, the world could burn before Colette forces her into an unwanted marriage. “A girl who won’t fear the Dark One. That’s the betrothed I can offer to you.”

“Fine offering,” he laughs, “when one look at me will have her running into the first convent and throwing away the key.”

The queen looks at him from head to toe, not quite managing to hide a wince at his inhuman appearance. “Only a fool prizes beauty over a person’s real worth,” she says. “I can raise a smart girl. May I suppose you’re worth more than your unfortunate looks?”

Rumpelstiltskin blinks. He’s been called a thousand of names, each more unflattering than the last. But he’s never been called ugly in such matter-of-fact tone. “I will strive to be, madame,” he says in his most courteous tone, remembering in the last second to stripe off the condescension.

Two hundred years of loneliness is a heavy burden.

Most of Baelfire’s descendants have forgotten their ties to him, and those who remember want little of the Dark One in their lives. His attempts to avoid loneliness have ended in disaster, with the latest now mother to a girl-child not of his blood, smug in the knowledge that she used the Dark One and tossed him aside in exchange for a title.

It will burn even Cora’s empty chest, to see Rumpelstiltskin with a wife who adores him.

“Deal,” he says, enamored already of that vision.

The men glance at each other, uneasy; but the queen sighs in relief. “Deal,” she repeats, and only a slight press of her hand against her abdomen betrays her nerves. Her eyes fix on his. “You will remember how to be kind.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s lips pull into a smile. “I believe I can dredge up some manners.”

“Oh, who gives a fig for politeness! I talk about kindness. Warmth,  tolerance. The things that make the hard times worth living through.”

“She will be wife to the Dark One, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin snaps. “Rooms filled with gold at her disposal, and even if she goes through it, I can make more.There will be no ‘hard times’ for her.”

The queen stares at him. “That’s… actually a good sign. Not at all what I meant, but a good sign all the same.”

Rumpelstiltskin leans back, away from the hint of softness on the queen’s face. He looks away first. “I will come back,” he says to the room, then smirks at the king. “But not for a few years. In the meanwhile, congratulations on your little war… father!”

The king glares, red in the face with repressed fury.

“Wait!” the queen interrupts before her husband’s upset steals over his tongue. “Don’t you want to know her name?” 

Rumpelstiltskin pauses, fingers fluttering at the level of his shoulders. “I do love names!”

“Colette!” the king tries one more time.

Everyone knows that names are powerful; in the hands of the Dark One, infinitely more so. What can happen to a little girl already bound to a beast, when the beast knows her name?

The queen prefers to believe that this can be a seed of trust, and perhaps flourish in her daughter’s future. “Belle,” she tells him, looking the Dark One in the eye. “Her name is Belle.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bookwormchocaholic asked:
> 
> Arranged Marriage Belle: What was your reaction to learning that your mother had arranged your marriage to the Dark One?

Belle stared blankly at her parents, absorbing the news. 

Her father looked ready to renew his litany of promises: that he would take care of it, that the Dark One would never touch her, that their men were ready to face he ogres, if that was the cost of breaking a deal with that monster. 

Thankfully her mother had grabbed onto Papa’s arm, and gave the little headshake that had him pressing his lips together as they waited for her reaction.

“But why does he  _need_  a wife?” Belle blurted out, grabbing onto the most glaring of odd factors. As her father’s color heightened, and even her mother gave her a pointed look of reproach, Belle had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. If he wanted  _that_ , he’d have dealt for a mistress.”

“We would never have accepted!” her father thundered.

Belle frowned. “With the ogres about to kill us all? Really? That’s… very sweet, Papa. But for the record, I’d rather be alive to make the sacrifice than be useless inside an ogre’s stomach.” 

“But, sweetheart! Your honor…”

“The point is moot,” her mother cut in. “He asked for a wife, and didn’t seem to think of a different option.” She held Belle’s hand, smiling in that calm way that had always reassured Belle that she was loved. “You are eighteen now, Belle, and as is the custom with every king’s child in our country, we will celebrate your betrothal tonight.”

Her father muttered under his breath, and both mother and daughter pretended they didn’t understand the foul words. “At least  _he_  hasn’t confirmed his attendance,” he said at last.

“The Dark One has his own duties across the land,” her mother said, apparently unconcerned that the guest of honor wouldn’t make an appearance. “He will come on his own schedule, but we do not need to wait on him.”

Belle paled a little. When she’d been fifteen and the other girls her age had started fretting about the men their families would send them to, Belle had wondered why there had never been talk of marrying her to any of the neighboring royal houses, or even to a deserving man in Avonlea. After some deliberation, and careful observation of her parents’ relationship, Belle had allowed herself to believe that her parents meant for her to find love.

She gulped down her disappointment, and grabbed onto the only thing her mother had said to reassure her. “But it’s still my choice, right? He won’t just come and take me away. I get to accept - or not! - first. Right?”

Her mother nodded, reaching out to caress her cheek in a comforting gesture. “Of course, my darling. But try and get to know the man before you give an answer? He is very powerful, and his protection can serve you a lot more than a handsome face or an easy compliment.”

Belle took it to mean that her prospective groom wasn’t blessed with either beauty nor grace. “I will try, Mama,” she promised.

Her mother smiled. Bent to kiss her forehead. “That’s my girl.”

.


	3. exotic

The thudding at the castle doors made Belle jump in surprise. In the two weeks since her arrival she had yet to see another soul. After having made the trek up the mountain to Rumpelstiltskin’s front step, she didn’t wonder at the lack of company.

Only the most pressing of needs could convince a person to walk this far. Those who believed that riding a horse or a carriage lightened the journey soon learned otherwise. Rumpelstiltskin’s magic twisted the roads so the effort spent visiting him was equal to everyone.

When she asked why he had to make it so hard to reach him, Rumpelstiltskin had stared at her and laughed. “Because I don’t  _want_  to be reached, of course! Only trouble comes from trucking with the outside world, dearie. The moment I’m distracted, I’m besieged with requests I don’t care to fulfill - and gods forbid I actually exert myself. Why, then I’m saddled with a girl I can’t get rid of!”

Belle had returned his pointed glance with a glare of her own. His deals were famous around the world, as the Dark One could be tempted to lend his aid for a price.

What he avoided, Belle suspected, was to actually have someone else in his home.

The most powerful wizard in the realm, and he got uncomfortable at so much as an attempt to converse during dinner. Were she a kinder person - or he a more polite host - Belle would consider leaving him to his dusty castle and empty dark rooms. But the promise to her mother trumped kindness, the deal he’d made was valid despite the two decades of silence, and honestly after the first hour in his presence, Belle had wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong.

Stubbornness had seen her through.

“You had your chance to set me aside, Rumpelstiltskin,” she’d told him, holding back the desire to poke out her tongue. “Twenty years, and you never mentioned breaking the deal.” She shrugged. “Live with the consequences of your inaction.”

His growl had made her twirl around and march away from the room. To hide her smile.

For all his posturing, Rumpelstiltskin had yet to force her back to Avonlea.

The thudding started again, louder this time.

Belle made to stand up, wondering if she should check who it was.

The dark smoke that preceded Rumpelstiltskin’s entrance swirled into the room before she’d actually moved more than a few inches.

He looked around, bouncing on his toes when he spotted her. “Perfect timing!” he said with giddy enthusiasm, making her blink in disbelief.

“Someone you expected today?”

“Oh, today. Tomorrow. Actually, it would have been better a few days ago, but one must make allowances for her age.”

A woman, then.

“Should I retire?”

“No!” His broad smile pinned her to her seat. Whatever amused him, Belle feared, would not be in her best interest. “You aspire to become the lady of this castle,” Rumpelstiltskin drawled, eyeing her with wicked mirth. “Let’s see if you can handle the post, shall we?”

Belle opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but a gesture of his hand had the gates outside thrown open.

There were footsteps, and then a figure in bright red appeared at the entrance of the great hall. Belle felt her eyebrows lift in surprise, as the sight of a handsome woman was the last thing she had expected.

The woman’s eyes swept over the room, finding her and dismissing her presence in the next second. Then she focused on Rumpelstiltskin, and her thickly painted lips parted in a smile.

“Rumple!” the woman called out, striding into the room with the confidence of one visiting a dear friend rather than entering the Dark One’s lair. “You devil!” Her hand made a vague wave towards Belle. “So the rumors are true! You have finally replaced me!”

Rumpelstiltskin made a show of furrowing his brow in confusion. “Replacing? Oh no, dearie. That would require your actually having lived in this castle before.”

The woman gave a sniff. “Oh. my dear. You know why I couldn’t. But that’s all water under the bridge, isn’t it?”

His grin darkened. “It is, Cora. We could drown a kingdom in it. Yours, perhaps?”

Belle shivered. Intellectually she knew that Rumpelstiltskin was capable of untold darkness, but she had grown up in the town that owed its continued existence to him. It was difficult to picture him doing harm.

The woman - Cora - laughed with apparent ease. She had walked up to Rumpelstiltskin, and without hesitation or ceremony, leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Hardly  _my_  kingdom,” she purred, though there was an edge to those words that gave Belle pause.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t react to her closeness. “Ah, yes. Of course. How insensitive of me, to make that mistake.” His lips pulled into a smirk. “Do give my best wishes to old Xavier, will you?”

Dark eyes narrowed, but Cora only gave a tight nod.

“Such a relief, for a king in his dotage, to know that he has four strong sons to succeed him - all as healthy as himself.”

“ _Five_ ,” Cora snapped. “Five sons.”

“Is that so?” He tapped his chin, as if that tidbit had truly escaped him. “Ah well. You know better, dearie. But you must admit there’s barely a need to mention a fifth son, when he has no chance to seize the throne.”

The look they shared was that of generals across a battlefield.

It would help to know what was at stake in this war, Belle thought. Charging blindly would not help. This woman’s visit was a test, and Belle could either pass or accept that she wasn’t fit to stay,

She pasted a smile on her face. Stood to place herself at Rumpelstiltskin’s side. The two of them could bicker until sundown if they wanted, but the three of them were aware that this visit had been planned for a chance to meet Belle.

The woman who had settled in the Dark Castle, bound to its owner by a deal.

The Dark One’s promised. Never mind that he had never shown an interest.

The future wife.

Belle extended her hand, taking Cora’s for a brief shake. “Pleased to meet you,” she chirped, for once grateful for the boring classes on neighboring kingdoms and the royalty that led them. She had not recognized Cora by name, but the mention of King Xavier had jogged her memory. “Henry’s wife, isn’t it?”

Rumpelstiltskin was right, a fifth son didn’t merit much attention. However, exceptions were made when his daughter became queen of the richest kingdom in the Enchanted Forest.

Cora’s eyes showed surprise. Then she turned to Rumpelstiltskin with a satisfied smile. “Talked about me already, dear?”

Rumpelstiltskin sneered. “You flatter yourself.”

Belle essayed another friendly smile. “I read about your kingdom. Beautiful place - and quite prosperous as well.”

“Their mills never stop,” Rumpelstiltskin added, too quickly to be just a passing observation. “They are not content until every seed and fruit is pulled off the ground. Bit greedy, if you ask me.”

The way he and the princess locked glares, the comment had been a veiled jab and Cora had received the message loud and clear.

“But you must be thirsty after your trip!” Belle said, cutting through the tension. “Would you accept a cup of tea?”

Cora turned to face her, a thin line between her eyebrows appeared as she considered Belle. This time her eyes took a detailed account of Belle’s appearance from her shoes to the loose ponytail she’d decided to wear today.

“Oh, Rumple,” she exclaimed, ignoring Belle’s question. “Isn’t she a darling?”

Belle forced her shoulders to relax. She also recognized the sharpness of an insult hidden in saccharine tones. “No on the tea, then,” she said, trying not to hiss in outrage.

So this was the newest test Rumpelstiltskin had concocted. To prove that she could rise above the likes of this woman.

“Perhaps you’re not planning to stay long, then. You mind if I show you to the door?”

Cora arched an eyebrow. Then dismissed her to face Rumpelstiltskin again. “I admit, she’s almost prettier than I was. But a pampered princess, one among dozens of her type? Really, Rumple, after all this time I honestly thought you’d prefer something more… exotic.”

Before Rumpelstiltskin could answer, Belle had squeezed herself between the two of them. She had to tilt her head back to meet the woman’s hard gaze, but was rewarded with the widening of her eyes in surprise.

“You misunderstand. ‘Exotic’ is for pets, or faraway lands, or-” Belle swept an arm around the room, pointing at the many curiosities on their pedestals “-whatever those are. There’s no need for more strangeness within these walls, and there certainly is no room for your pettiness.”

Cora giggled. “Look. It bites too!”

That was the last straw.

She turned furiously to Rumpelstiltskin, expecting him to deal with his guest’s rudeness, but got only a bland look in response. It was up to her, then.

Fine.

“Out,” she pronounced clearly.

Cora gave an amused smile. “Now, little one-”

She said nothing more. One moment she was there, and the next the castle had heard the orders of the woman it recognized as its lady, and a burst of magic yanked the unwanted visitor away and tossed her back to the edge of Rumpelstiltskin’s territory.

Belle whispered her gratefulness.

The castle subsided.

“She will come back,” Rumpelstiltskin warned her. “She never stays away for as long as one would wish.”

Belle lifted her chin in silent defiance. If Cora insisted on her rudeness, she would handle the princess as she saw fit.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. “Well, dearie. Congratulations! You’ve made an enemy already. A nice taste of what lies ahead, isn’t it?”

Belle’s head snapped up, understanding flooding her.

He had wanted to see if she could deal with an annoyance. But no matter the result, it worked in his favor. If Belle hid away, she proved that she was not fit to stay. If she was the winner in the encounter, she realized what kind of people she could expect to meet for the rest of her life.

“Exactly,” Rumpelstiltskin said, reading her thoughts off her glum expression. “Still want to stay?”

Belle thought of the disagreeable woman she had just met. Then she thought of the line of disagreeable suitors that awaited her at home.

The choice was obvious.

“Oh yes,” she said sweetly, making a point of grabbing his arm and coming to her toes to brush a kiss against his cheek. “You’re stuck with me, Rumple.”

 

The End  
14/05/17

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson meets Belle

The man didn’t seem daunted at playing target to the Dark One’s glare, and with a cheeky grin he bent to retrieve the hat that was standing where the unexpected portal had opened. His expression lit up when he caught sight of Belle, who was curiously peeking from behind Rumpelstiltskin’s back now that it was obvious the intruder wasn’t a threat, and who couldn’t help but respond to the cheery wave he sent at her.

“So it’s true!” The man cried out, straightening and heading over to clasp Rumpelstiltskin’s hand. “Well, well, old fellow. Allow me to wish you joy!”

*

“I was all the way in London when I heard the news - Viktor sends congratulations, by the way - and I just had to rush back and see with my own eyes what manner of witchling had agreed to wed your sour, old face.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s annoyance had slid off him, so Jefferson simply grinned unapologetically at the frown that came over Belle’s face at that unflattering description of her promised.

“Ah, the lady protests!” He donned his hat with a quick motion, and clutched his chest over his heart in a dramatic gesture. “Could it be? Is this really true love?”

 

*

Jefferson made an elaborate production out of straightening his coat, then bowed at the waist before Belle. “Madame, allow me to introduce myself properly.” The last word was said with a pointed look at Rumpelstiltskin, who only glared back. The younger man obviously hadn’t appreciated the comparison to a pest impossible to shake off the castle. “I’m Jefferson, realm jumper and your loyal servant for as long as your presence brightens my friend’s life.” Another sideways glance. “Because I, at least, do treasure our friendship.”

Rumpelstiltskin grumbled. “Have I turned the boy into an actual bug? Treasuring enough, I’d say!”

 

*

To complete the courtesies, Jefferson took hold of Belle’s hand for the customary kiss. However, at the first touch he halted and glanced at Rumpelstiltskin in shock. “My, my. What’s this? I’d swear there’s not a drop of magic in the girl!” His tongue slipped into further disaster: “What use can she be to you?”

Belle snatched her hand away. “No one needs magic to be useful,” she said archly. “You should know better.”

Jefferson’s eyebrows rose. “Aha! A temper and no patience for fools.” He glanced between the couple, his grin ever widening. “I can see the attraction now!”


	5. A Little Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @betweenpaperpages asked 15. “That was a perfect example of how not to do things.” (Rumbelle)

Rumpelstiltskin lifted a finger in warning to avoid commentary from the guest still ensconced in her chair, though his eyes followed Belle’s hasty retreat. More than anything, he wished there were no witness to this latest battle of wills, but he had long stopped being surprised by the girl’s inopportune timing.

Maleficent, of course, ignored him. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Don’t,” he growled, turning around only when he realized he was hoping for Belle to look back at him. “Not another word, Maleficent.”

Maleficent smirked. “Don’t be tiresome.” She gave a prim little yawn, eyes laughing at him. “The man who’ll order me around has not been born yet.”

“Not a man, dearie.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile, as she gave a significant glance toward the door Belle had just slammed behind her. “Oh, man enough, I’d say.”

Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth.

Maleficent raised her eyebrows. “I just saw a slip of a girl rail at you and all but poke your chest to make a point. Did you curse her? Lock her in a dungeon at least?” She nodded at his ill-humored grunt. “Exactly. If you mean to project terror and despair, o’ Dark One, that was a perfect example of how not to do things. It’s hard to fear you, when your little fiancée gets away with challenging you unharmed.”

At that reminder that, to the whole of the outside world, he and Belle were bound together, Rumpelstiltskin let himself fall onto his chair, all but snarling at the situation. “Better if she ran all the way home.”

There was a moment of silence, and then a graceful little titter. “Oh dear. You have absolutely no idea what to do with that girl!”

Rumpelstiltskin scowled back.

“This is immensely more entertaining than the little deal I had in mind, coming here. I never imagined I’d see the Spinner himself tied in knots.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “Would you like some advice, Rumpelstiltskin?”

He waved her off impatiently. “Begone, witch!”

Maleficent gazed at him, and Rumpelstiltskin could almost hear the disdainful curl of her lips when he summoned a fireball to stress the dismissal. “You’re useless in this mood,” she said, drawing herself to her feet with dignity. “I’ll say my goodbyes and be on my way.”

The fireball vanished in the same gesture he indicated the main door. “Good bye, then.”

Another little laugh. “Oh, I didn’t mean you!”

The second it took Rumpelstiltskin to understand her meaning was enough for Maleficent to prepare against his response. He scrambled up, tossing a freezing spell in her direction, but let out a furious growl when Maleficent’s shield proved strong enough. They had settled the score after Belle had freed that prince from Maleficent’s curse, but he wouldn’t trust a fallen fairy not to cause mischief. “Stay away from Belle!”

“Oh, Rumpelstiltskin,” he heard even as her magic worked to follow Belle’s trail, “are you really that nervous over a little girl chat?”

Seething, Rumpelstiltskin thought of following her. Then he realized that, after their row, Maleficent might just be the push Belle needed to finally break their deal. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he deliberated his choices. Very slowly, needing to convince each muscle that this was for the best, he returned to his chair and sat down.

And waited for Belle to announce she couldn’t live under his roof for another day.

 

The End  
26/06/17


	6. Chapter 6

She couldn’t hold back her laughter any more and burst into a fit of giggles. Hand over her mouth to try to hold them in, she raised her eyes to Rumpelstiltskin, expecting to see that twitch in the corner of his mouth that declared he’d been teasing.

“Oh,” she said when she realized that Rumpelstiltskin was not laughing along, “you’re serious.” Then she frowned. “You must have a really high opinion of the rest of your gender, if you truly believe any of those suitors would make a better husband than yourself. Have you been listening to me at all?”

His eyes widened. Probably because, even for a wordsmith of his caliber, there were only wrong answers to that question.

Belle took advantage of his hesitation to reinstate her case. “Those men don’t have the first idea of what to do with me. They want to ‘rescue’ me - from you.” A roll of her eyes. “Do I look like I need to be rescued?”

Rumpelstiltskin had the presence of mind to shake his head at that. He had known the girl for little over a month, but he was certain that Belle was more likely to jump off a tower than to play the meek damsel in distress.

“Exactly!” Her smile was bright, and exclusively directed at him. “You understand that. They would have me break Mama’s promise, which is bad enough, and once released from our betrothal, they’d take away my choices too!” A mulish set of her jaw revealed her opinion on that. “Never!”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed.

That determination had brought a king’s daughter to his doorstep, demanding that the Dark One acknowledge her as his promised bride. Every attempt to scare her away had bounced against the wall of her blind optimism, and the only time she would have left in a disgust of him, Rumpelstiltskin had made amends.

He wanted her to leave, choose her fate, and find happiness far away from his tainting influence. He had also come to wish that she’d remember him with fondness.

After so many decades, it would be soothing to think of one soul who thought kindly of him.

“There are other men, dearie,” he told her, raising a hand to halt her protest that she’d met enough of them. “One will be to your taste, sooner or later.”

Belle snorted. “I like you well enough.”

The sudden tremble in his hands, he decided, came because she sounded in earnest. “Don’t be silly, child. If the Dark One is your idea of a good husband, then I despair of your good sense at all!”

“Better a dark wizard than a fool!”

His eyebrows lifted at the impassioned cry. His mouth parted, and he thought we’re all fools. He said nothing, though, unwilling to give more fuel to their conversation. It was a moot point, anyway. Their understanding was in word only, and for all Belle claimed that the Dark Castle was to her liking, she would leave soon enough.

A light like hers belonged to the world at large, not sequestered under his roof.

“Let’s not fight,” he said, trying a conciliatory tone. From the arch of her eyebrows, Rumpelstiltskin knew that he still needed more practice in friendly exchanges. Even to his ear the words sounded taut in just this side of annoyance, but Belle took a look at him and nodded, responding to the spirit of his request rather than his tone.

“Peace,” she agreed, then moved to his side and threaded her arm through his, directing him to sit back on the couch. “Why don’t you tell me what you thought of Avonlea, and make sure that this time you miss any mention of Papa’s friends. Did you see the gardens? Aren’t they as beautiful as I told you?”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, relaying his impression of her hometown while at the back of his head he considered his present dilemma. Namely, how to deliver Belle to the life she deserved.

It had become obvious that every man who had introduced himself to her in the weeks after her mother’s death was doomed by her bitterness in what, in her opinion, had been sheer opportunism. However, as Rumpelstiltskin had said, those were not the only men in the Enchanted Forest.

Or in the worlds available for a visit.

He thought of taking Belle on a lengthy tour. The idea appealed to him. She had made enough noises about longing for adventure; she didn’t need to know there was a second reason to parade every knight, duke, and prince for her perusal at the multitude of courts and balls he could enter.

Even if Belle - smart Belle, observant Belle - realized his true intention, it would be fine.

It wasn’t as if she would get mad at him, right?

 

The End  
17/06/17


	7. Chapter 7

Rumpelstiltskin glanced up, considering a smile to welcome Belle into his laboratory, but instead knitted his brow in consternation when he saw her expression. “Why that sad face?”

Belle held up a piece of paper.

Rumpelstiltskin recognized the seal on top and frowned. If her father was upsetting her again, he would have another interview with the Dark One, and this time Rumpelstiltskin wouldn’t be in a happy disposition. “Bad news from home?” he asked levelly, keeping his temper under wraps.

Belle shook her head. “No. Well, not really. Here.” She offered the paper to him. “That’s for you. From Papa.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows at that. “Reading my correspondence already?” he tutted to cover his surprise. “You shouldn’t display such wifely vices until there’s a ring on your finger, my dear.”

Belle glared at him. “According to you, that might take forever so I have nothing to lose.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pointing her chin at the letter in his hand. “And you can’t think I’d let my father communicate with you unsupervised. Last time was disaster enough.”

Last time had been a kidnapping attempt. Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t keen on having the headstrong girl under his roof, but he resented being shown a sword and told to release his prisoner. He had moved from resentment to fury when he’d realized another group of knights were using the distraction to steal Belle away.

It had taken her a month to talk him into returning the dozen slugs to their natural form.

And now the king was reaching out again…

“I trust he can’t fit an army in an envelope,” he said glibly, though the jibe didn’t get as much as a crack of a smile. “All right, let’s see what has you in such a state.”

He could say this for Belle’s father: the man didn’t waste paper apologizing for the unforgivable, and instead went straight to the point. In the few seconds it took him to read the four lines of the missive, Rumpelstiltskin could feel his brow rise higher. “I see,” he said when he finished, rubbing his chin. “I admit I’m confused, madam. Are you pained at the thought of meeting with your father again, or because he requests my presence?”

Belle reddened. “A foolish request, you should ignore it.”

He tilted his head, his strange eyes fixed on her, and his voice was too low to imply the absent-minded curiosity Belle had expected. “I should?”

Belle chose her words with care, taking his behavior as a warning not to further the rift between him and her father. “It’s just that Papa is very old-fashioned. He expects that any young lady that attends a public event, should have an escort hovering at her elbow.” She couldn’t contain the little sigh at the memory of the many arguments that had arisen - and which she’d often lost - when she wanted so much as to see the plays at the marketplace. “He never listened when I said it wasn’t necessary, and then he would insist that I’d change my mind when I had a husband to do the honors, and I’d agree because it was the easiest way to make him see that none of the men he suggested were even affianced to me, and perhaps taking along a couple of my ladies would be just as well. And now…”

“Now you do have a fiancé.”

“In name only,” Belle muttered.

“I see.” Rumpelstiltskin glanced down at the letter in his hand, then his quick fingers folded the paper in half, and quarters, and eighths, and so on until it should have been physically impossible to keep folding it. In a sleigh of hand, the last evidence of Maurice’s letter disappeared into his palm. His hand waved around, as if to prove it was empty, and he grinned at Belle. “Well, well, haven’t you heard?” he said brightly. “Names are very important to the Dark One!”

Belle looked at him cautiously. “Rumple, you don’t have to-”

“Ah hah! So you are embarrassed to be seen with me!”

Belle gave a little gasp, then narrowed her eyes and peered at him. Upon realizing it wasn’t one of his little jokes at her expense, she reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Don’t be silly. I just don’t think you’ll enjoy the venue my father has chosen.”

“Princess Abigail’s engagement party, hm? I might have an invitation of my own in one of these drawers.” He lifted a smug corner of his lips at her surprise. “It was my fair due, being the one who pointed the distressed lady in the right direction, when it came to rescuing her brave knight. For a fee,” he clarified when he saw her pleased smile. “True love doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

Belle, who remembered the other princess for being one of the few people who would converse about favorite books between dance sets at a formal ball, felt her smile widen at the knowledge that her old friend was marrying for love. “Then… You don’t mind?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, his smile a little softer, a little friendlier.

In her excitement, Belle grabbed onto the lapels of his shirt and leaned over until their eyes were of a level. “We’re really going to the ball, together?”

Rumpelstiltskin inhaled deeply, unsettled by her nearness, but then he was prying her fingers away with a gentle touch. “Yes, yes. I just said so, didn’t I? Go to your room, my dear. You’ll find a choice of dresses for your inspection.”

Belle squealed, and her hands moved too quickly to contain them, wrapping Rumpelstiltskin into a hug before he could protest. “You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?”

“Hmph. I assure you, girl. I’ve had no communication with your father since last summer,” Rumpelstiltskin answered while attempting to extricate himself from the embrace.

Belle was kind enough not to make him squirm for long. “I believe that,” she said shrewdly, stepping back and pretending not to see him straighten his coat with a couple of awkward jerks. “I also know that you only keep the invitations you mean to accept.”

Which, since her arrival, had amounted to a few deals in other lands - about which she’d heard after the fact - while most of the letters that arrived in the Dark Castle got a single read-through before being tossed into the fire. Social occasions seldom featured among the choices, and even more rarely hosted by honest people.

“It was in the back of my mind,” Rumpelstiltskin admitted. “Unlike most of my acquaintances, Midas is a decent sort. Never stints on entertainment or food, too.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Rumpelstiltskin told her, a fond note in his voice.

“And I’ll see Papa, too!”

Rumpelstiltskin sniggered. “Never said it’d be perfect.”

Belle gave him a chastising look that fell far off the mark and looked amused instead. “I’m sure my father has seen reason.”

“And I’m sure he hasn’t. But,” he added quickly, “there’s no reason to quibble over it yet. Send your answer, my dear, and let your father know he will see the two of us next week. Whether he’ll be glad of it…” He shrugged, remembering that a father might not always deal honestly when drawing closer to a distant child.

He doubted that Maurice was any more accepting of Belle’s declaration that she’d honor her mother’s word and marry the Dark One than he’d been before. The outward willingness to meet with Rumpelstiltskin must be a trap, but on the slim chance he was mistaken, he would keep his suspicions to himself.

No need to burden Belle without proof.

Belle’s smile never dimmed, her mind on brighter subjects. “And we’ll dance, too?”

He wrinkled his nose, having entertained the notion and still unsure it wouldn’t affect Belle’s options in the long term, when she was looking for a husband for real. However, she looked so hopeful…. There would be enough young men to distract her anyway, he reasoned. “It’s what balls are for, isn’t it? You’ll dance as much as you want, Belle.”

Belle beamed, and Rumpelstiltskin made a strategic retreat behind his work table before he was swept into a second hug.

“We will have so much fun!”

Rumpelstiltskin thought of the reception the Dark One’s affianced bride could get, even at a court that favored him as a recent ally, and he thought of Maurice’s likely plans…. He didn’t let his concerns show, though. “I’ll make sure that you do,” he promised instead.

Whatever came, he meant to keep that promise.

 

  
The End  
09/01/18


	8. "medal"

The dance returned Belle to him, just as an unfortunate lady latched onto the next gentleman’s arm and made her hasty escape. Partnering the Dark One wasn’t an enviable position, not even when he was an honored guest at the court of King Midas.

Belle’s bright blue eyes defied that notion, the smile touching her lips turned into a tinkling giggle in response to a questioning eyebrow. “I live in a castle filled with gold, but only now I’ve been blinded by it,” she said, shaking her head with delighted amusement. A discreet nod indicated her recent dance partner. “Have you ever seen so many medals on a single chest? I could barely hear him over the jiggling. How ridiculous to wear them all at a dance!”

Rumpelstiltskin snickered, more at her reaction than the man’s folly, even as he took stock of him.

Young. Fit. Handsome.

A colonel, according to the fripperies on his uniform. Either rich, charming, or a pleasing combination of both, if one took into account the adoringly hopeful look on the woman currently in his arms.

And Belle found him ridiculous.

“Not husband material, then?”

Belle huffed, shooting him a reproachful look. “Not at all.”


	9. Unveiled

Parcels left at the gates of the Dark Castle were infrequent. Sometimes a person who had made a deal would abandon his payment outside before hurrying away, too afraid to even enter the Dark One’s territory. Even more rarely, a desperate family would leave a basket with a mewling burden inside, hoping that the rumors that Rumpelstiltskin had a soft spot for children be true.

(It was. Though he never relayed the news of the baby’s fate to their parents, unwilling to give his reputation such an humanitarian twist.)

A gift, however, had never made its appearance at his doorstep.

Of course, he was not the intended recipient.

“It seems I am not the only one who remembers your birthday, little one,” he said, having transported himself to the main hall of the castle. Belle was where he had left her, her feet curled under her as she read in the sunlight, half a dozen cushions protecting her from the cold harshness of the stone window seat. “This just arrived.”

Belle’s eyes widened as she took in the heavy package. Then she grinned and launched herself off her position, clapping in unrestrained glee. There was no sign that she suspected anything wrong, so Rumpelstiltskin forwent to mention his quick sweep of the package. His magic had shown no threats, so he smiled indulgently as she grabbed onto her gift and hugged it to her chest. “Look,” she cried out, mouth falling open in surprise, “it’s from Papa!”

That had been the main reason he had not allowed the package into her possession before studying it himself. Her father had made his position clear several times, and much as Rumpelstiltskin agreed with the man on the matter of Belle’s future being better served if she returned home, he had dealt with enough goons sent to collect the girl with or without her consent to be wary of this new development.

Belle, however, lit up with excitement, and was tearing open the paper without further ceremony.

“Oh,” she whispered two minutes later, once the wrapping paper revealed soft white silk. Curious, Rumpelstiltskin strode closer for a better look, and in the next second wished he had brought himself to his tower when he noticed that Belle was tearing up.

The fury at her hurt took him by surprise. “What’s wrong?” he growled, thoughts of tearing Maurice’s flesh from his body already swirling in his mind.

Belle shook her head, giving a soft sniffle that immediately became a disbelieving laugh. “It’s Mama’s wedding dress,” she told him, carefully tugging at the fabric to release it from its package. With hands that trembled, but a joyous expression on her face, Belle unfolded the dress across the length of the table, biting her lip as if holding back more tears. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

More than ever, Rumpelstiltskin wished he had taken a long trip, preferably across Jefferson’s hat, the moment he had seen that package. “Yes,” he managed, because Belle was looking at him in expectancy of a comment. His experience with mothers ranged from disappointment to anger - his own, Milah, and Cora being the most salient examples - but even he had to admit that Colette had been a woman whose main concern, even in the middle of a losing war against the ogres, had been her child’s well-being. “Your mother was a woman of good taste,” he said truthfully, turning to study the dress so he didn’t need to see Belle’s smile at his words.

It proved to be a mistake.

Old-fashioned as it was, he immediately saw the improvements that could be made to fit it to Belle. In the next instant, he was picturing her wearing the white confection, and he hardened his jaw before his imagination betrayed him further and painted a more detailed scene of the girl’s wedding day.

Fortunately Belle’s attention was riveted by the other items in the package. With slow movements, she lovingly drew out a pair of shoes, dyed to match the silvery trimmings of the bodice, and from the very bottom a long piece of gossamer fabric capped by an elegant headpiece.

Belle fingered an edge of the veil, a soft smile on her face. “I used to sneak into my parents’ room to try it on,” she told him. “She would tell me that I needed to be patient, that one day it would be mine. But she never locked it away.”

Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t avoid a smile of his own, picturing a childish version of the girl, wrapped in an oversized white garment and giggling when she checked her reflection.

“It’s really here!” she cried out, turning and stepping toward him without giving him a chance to escape. Months of forced closeness had taught him that her emotions often expressed themselves through little touches and even a grateful kiss on his cheek, but Rumpelstiltskin was still startled when her arms came around him. “I can’t believe Papa has made his peace with my decision,” she said, words muffled against his chest as she made no attempt to unglue herself away.

_Me neither_ , he thought, resigned to the embrace as he didn’t have the heart to ruin the moment by pushing her away. He didn’t say anything, though, as he had experience about fathers who failed and later did their best to make amends.

“Do you think he’ll come if we send him an invitation?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, by now more amused than irritated at her attempts to make their arrangement into a real engagement. “No wedding, no invitation,” he reproached gently.

Belle said nothing for a moment, then glanced up, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I meant an invitation to visit, Rumple,” she told him, grinning. “But if that’s a proposal, I accept.”

Her laughter followed him as he slipped from her hold and escaped to his laboratory. Once on his own again, Rumpelstiltskin stared at the back wall for a long moment, then he closed his eyes with a sigh.

His mind  _had_  jumped to matrimony.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

The girl was getting under his skin - and he needed stronger reminders that it wasn’t part of his plan.

 

The End  
03/07/17

 

 


	10. (Never) A Simple Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @still-searching47 asked: ‘games

  
“It’s your turn,” Belle said, loud enough that Rumpelstiltskin understood that she was repeating herself. Her eyes flicked over him in concern. “Are you all right?” At his nod, she raised an eyebrow even as she held out the dice. “Then please pay attention. It’s no fun if you aren’t even trying.”

Her pout earned a smile from him, and Rumpelstiltskin dutifully rolled the dice even as he allowed his mind to drift back into poking at the conundrum that had puzzled him for the last couple of days. Moving his piece across the board required no strategy, though he indulged in a snort as he landed on another black square.

At least the instructions on the penalty card didn’t send him back to the start this time.

“We can play something different next time,” Belle offered, nudging her lower lip between her teeth as her piece sailed past every station on the road without encountering as much as a ‘move back a space’ card. “I know this is not your favorite.”

Rumpelstiltskin had grown fond of their battles over the chessboard, as the two of them had a competitive streak that refused to give up even when reduced to a king defended by a couple of pawns, a rook, and a bishop.

Tonight, however, he was too distracted to plot the stealing of her queen while .her knights harassed his own.

“I asked for something simple,” he reminded her, shrugging his shoulders. Then winced as his piece 'drowned’ in a bog, doomed to stay stuck there for two turns. He threw the dice a playful glare. “I’m burning these once we’re done, though.”

Belle giggled. “Lady luck really isn’t on your side tonight, is she?”

Having convinced himself that he wouldn’t miss Belle’s good-humored teasing, Rumpelstiltskin fought not to stare at her like a fool.

_Who cares_ , he wanted to say.

And also,  _But_ you  _are._

His mind had yet to understand why.

Belle’s easy demeanor looked natural, her smiles as sincere as they’d been a few nights ago before they had been interrupted by a intruder in the castle. She had pushed her arguments against the archer’s punishment until they were both angry, red-faced as they yelled into each other’s face.

He had expected her displeasure to linger even after the thief had walked away, yet the little routines that had developed in her weeks in the castle returned as if he and Belle had never avoided the other while the fate of the man in the dungeons remained undecided.

“Rumpelstiltskin?” he heard Belle say. “You can play again.”

He returned from his reverie, and reached for the dice.

Belle hesitated before offering him the two bits of polished wood. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so distracted.”

Rumpelstiltskin gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He must not have succeeded, because Belle leaned closer, a worried little frown creasing her forehead. “Just thinking what to choose for our next match,” he told her, pulling his lips into a more familiar smirk. “Or are you too tired for another game?”

“Oh, a challenge!” The worry drifted away, replaced by a giddy grin. “Of course I’ll stay!”

_But why?_

He didn’t dare ask. He was afraid that if the question were given a voice, it would be a wail that left his lips. Instead he nodded, uncomfortably aware that the grudging resignation with which he’d accepted Belle’s presence in the beginning had morphed into a fondness for her presence.

“You might regret it,” he said, speaking both to her willingness to keep him company and his growing appreciation of it.

Belle heard only another boast, as he’d intended, and she laughed in response. “You forget that hauling out these old games was my idea,” she reminded him, reaching over to give his arm a quick squeeze. “I have yet to regret it.”

Rumpelstiltskin realized he’d grown used to her random tactile skirmishes when his first reaction wasn’t to jump away. Belle was already playing her turn, beaming as her piece crossed the finish line. When she looked up at him, happiness radiated off her, and for a moment Rumpelstiltskin almost forgot to grumble in pretended annoyance. “Don’t get too used to singing victory over the Dark One, dearie,” he said, flicking a hand to remove the board back to its box under the table.

Belle rolled her eyes. Whether at his unnecessary show of magic or his words, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t know. “I’m trembling already, oh feared one,” she told him, the grin on her face revealing the lie if her amused tone hadn’t done the job already. “What shall be my fate?”

Another wave, and a different board appeared between them.

He hid a scowl. Perhaps he shouldn’t allowed his magic to choose randomly.

Even Belle looked a little surprised. “Last time you said this was boring,” she pointed out.

He still wasn’t fond of pirate ships, even if they were half a dozen miniature carvings to be arranged over the squares of the board. On the good side, however, he would get to 'sink’ the fleet on Belle’s side…

“Ready?” Belle asked after a minute, holding the dice that would decide who threw the first 'cannonball’.

_Not at all_ , Rumpelstiltskin thought. _Not for you_.

Outwardly, he grinned back.

He still couldn’t understand why Belle stayed, having seen the darkness in him. But as long as she did… however long that might be… perhaps… Perhaps he could follow her example and avoid regrets until the future merited them?

 

The End  
30/07/17

 

 


End file.
